Admin Ella: Hi honey! I totally don’t mind writing this! May 26th is actually my mum’s birthday! Anything to make you happy honey! If you do draw something for it, could you tag us? You don’t need to sacrifice anything, just promise to be safe and try and get a good night’s sleep. Have an awesome night, I send platonic cuddles! Also, Suga and Oikawa are both genderfluid in this one. Imzadi means beloved, it’s from Star Trek. Also, Suga is okay with the nickname Kou-chan.:3 WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF DYSPHORIA
Also ft. painted transgirl hinata
“What are you working on there, Imzadi?” Oikawa asked, watching Suga gracefully make long, thin highlights on his canvas.
“Oikawa you are such a nerd. Stop making Star Trek references while we’re in public.” Suga smiled and rolled their eyes, and continued on the big piece.
“The best part is, you totally understood what I meant. I’m rubbing off on you, Kou-chan.” Oikawa smirked, looking down at the silver haired artist who was now doing some really tiny black lines, crouched at the bottom of the painting.
Suga looked up, before smirking in a playful manner and replying “Actually, I’m usually the one rubbing off on you, if you know what I mean.”
“Ahh! So dirty Kou-chan!” Oikawa wiped at fake tears and put a hand on his heart. “You wound me with your bluntness.”
Eyebrows crinkling and eyes focusing Suga spoke. “Hey, your royal drama highness, does this look right to you?” Suga asked, standing up and taking a few steps back to see the entire painting. Oikawa followed suit and turned around to really look at the painting. They had finished their final piece only yesterday, but came to visit Suga while they worked on theirs.
“Wow…” The piece looked much better than theirs. It had much more meaning too. The picture, it depicted a radiant young adult, with short hair that looked the color of a soft peach made intense with flecks of baby blue blue and white. The model was painted from the waist up, and was shirtless, but was crouched over, wearing the most agonized expression they had ever seen.
They looked terrified, but not the horror movie kind. Like, the kind of terrified you get when you realized you have no idea who you are anymore. The model had an pale, slender arm wrapped around their paler stomach, and the other one clawed at their chest. Their long fingernails had ripped away a patch of skin not to reveal blood, but to reveal a breast. The color pallet was very happy, considering the depiction, but oddly fitting. The colors shielded the viewer from the true horror of this picture. The colors were pretending everything was alright. The soft yellows, greens, blues, peaches and beige, all these pale, happy colors forming an image that stuck with them, because Oikawa knew this feeling, this feeling of..
Oikawa was pulled out of his trance by the melodic sound of Suga’s voice. “What?”
“That’s what the painting’s called. Dysphoria.”
“Wow. Sweetheart, this is beautiful, sad, terrifying and nostalgic all at once.”
“Yeah. Kou-chan, let’s not stay and watch paint dry. Let me take you for coffee.”
“Okay. Can I have a hug?” Suga turned around in their light grey smock and held out their arms.
“Yeah.” Suga then hugged Oikawa, wrapping their arms around Oikawa’s waist and burying their head in their chest. Poor Suga, Oikawa thought. They looked exhausted. Oikawa put their head down, putting their nose in Suga’s hair. He smelled like an art studio, like clay and pastels, as well as vanilla and peppermint. Suga let go, cueing Oikawa to do the same.
“I love you.”Suga got on his toes and kissed Oikawa on the cheek.
